Shiver of Fear by Roxanne St. Claire

Author:Roxanne St. Claire [ST. CLAIRE, ROXANNE]
Language: deu
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781609418908
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2011-03-31T22:00:00+00:00

Buttoning his shirt in the pitch-black room, listening to the sounds of Devyn dressing in the bathroom, Marc tried telling himself that getting dressed up and sneaking out of the hotel by blending into a crowded wedding was a smart way to achieve what still was his original goal—to get Devyn out of Belfast.

So of course he hadn’t put up a fight, and it wasn’t just because he was temporarily blinded by lust.

Although he was that, too.

He was going along with her escape plan because of another male weakness he harbored—the need to help women with a cause. And not just any kind of woman, oh, no. That would be too easy.

The worst kind of woman—flawless and perfect on the outside and scarred and wrecked and ruined on the inside. Marc Rossi to the rescue.

Except hadn’t he learned from Laura that he couldn’t fix those internal scars? Women like that despised themselves and were incapable of love. He couldn’t make Laura love herself after her mess of a childhood, but he didn’t accept that fact until the day she stuck her sweet little Beretta 92—the one he’d given her for her birthday—in his face and damn near killed him.

Because no matter how he’d tried to show Laura he loved her, she refused to believe that deep inside she was worthy of that love. So all that effort was wasted.

And she was an embezzler. He couldn’t forget that.

Devyn was no criminal, like his ex-wife. But she was lost, alone, and longing for something he didn’t think her birth mother was going to give her. He could help her find that out, but he couldn’t, absolutely could not, let himself get involved with her.

Rescuing her was not his job. Getting her out of Belfast was.

“Hey, I’d dance with you.”

He looked up from the cuff he was tugging through a sports coat sleeve, his night vision easily strong enough to see the vision in front of him.

The wrong woman who looked very, very right in a short black dress, a deep V at the neckline, the waist tapered to show the curves of her narrow frame.

The memories of the woman he’d married—last seen by Marc on her way to prison—faded instantly. “We’ll dance right out the door and to the balcony if your plan works.”

“It’ll work. It has to.” Her whole face lit with a renewed spark for her not-so-secret fantasy for a mother-daughter connection that would erase the pain he sometimes saw in her eyes.

He wasn’t going to be the one easing that pain, not in any permanent way. He had to remember that.

No matter how much he wanted to.

“I have an idea about our bags,” he said. “Let’s stash what we absolutely need into that small carry-on, and I’ll just tote it over my shoulder like a camera bag or something. It’s not that noticeable.”

“And the laptop?” she asked.

“I downloaded everything we might need onto a jump drive and deleted the rest. We’ll just leave everything here in the room safe, not that it’s any guarantee of safety.

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